


What is Love ?

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demisexuality, Did I Mention Fluff, Fluff, Good Alpha Peter Hale, Healthy Relationships, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build, Trips to the woods, demisexual chris, poison oak, wise stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: He often wondered if he was broken, wrong - if something in the long line of abuses Gerard had inflicted on him had stolen his ability to feel a desire for sex or intimacy on any level.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Comments: 17
Kudos: 200





	What is Love ?

**Author's Note:**

> This started because of an Idea I had on Discord and then it grew. Again this fluff feast would not have been possible without Bunnywest throwing commas and good ideas like the ninja they are.

“I stand with the Hales.” Chris kept his tone resolved, his eyes focused on the hunters standing before him. He could see the look of shock in those eyes, the weight of judgement in them. There was a time their judgement would have meant something to Chris, but now the only opinion that mattered from them was whether they would abide by his decision. 

A lump of worry settled in his gut, cold and hard, but he kept his expression carefully neutral and focused on the huntress standing in front of him.

Miriam Deneuve spoke, and the others turned to listen. “You do this of your own volition, not pressured by others?” Trust the Grand Matriarch to ask that question, to get straight to the point. There was no judgement in her tone, only careful curiosity, her eyes shooting to the two Hales standing behind him. It felt strangely comforting to know he had them standing at his back.

“I believe it is the right thing. The Hales helped me see that my daughter ideas were more than just words.” Chris looked over his shoulder and at Peter’s almost imperceptible nod he stood a little straighter.“We protect those who cannot protect themselves." 

While the other hunters look shocked and angry at the changing of the words, Miriam nodded to herself. “That is a code worthy of following.” 

Chris let out a relieved breath. As Grand Matriarch, Miriam had the power to call the other hunters against Chris, but she had never shown herself to follow in Gerard’s bigoted views.

“Alpha Hale, do you support Christopher’s request?” Chris held his breath when Miriam addressed Peter. The Alpha had no love for hunters or Chris’s family, but he had been open and accepting when Chris broached the topic of forging an alliance between hunter and pack with him.

He relaxed a little when Peter moved up alongside him, and strangely he felt the tension leave his body completely when Peter placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “The Hale pack stands with Christopher, we support and embrace this decision.” 

Chris dared to peek sideways at Peter. Instead of the normal mocking smirk, he wore a warm and open smile. Chris wasn’t certain when he’d ever seen Peter actually smile like that, and he was surprised how that smile affected him. It sent a warm curl of something through his belly. What would he have to do to earn a smile like that? And more to the point, why did he want to?

Thoughts of Peter and his devastating smile were cut short when Peter let out a deep chuckle and patted Chris’s shoulder. “No one was more shocked than I when Chris suggested an alliance, though in hindsight I should have seen that he would make such an offer.” Peter turned his head and aimed the full force of his smile at Chris, the hand on his shoulder gripping a little tighter but not painfully so. “He has put his life and reputation on the line for our pack,and he has listened and given advice freely with nothing to gain for himself, all the while grieving the loss of his own child.” Peter looked back at the gathered hunters grinning, a hint of fang showing. “While there was a time my sanity was in question, this is not one of those times,”

Miriam nodded to Chris and Peter .“Then that’s settled. I accept your decision Christopher, and with your permission Alpha Hale, I would like to set in motion a formal treaty between the hunter’s council and the Hale pack.”

Chris didn’t miss the look of shock that flitted across Peter's face, or the audible grumbling from some of the older hunters, but a quick glare from Miriam soon silenced them.

“I think that would be advantageous for both of us, Matriarch Deneuve. I'll have our Emissary and Christopher work on it.” 

In a night that had already been strange enough, what Miriam did next caused Chris's jaw to drop., She walked forward and extended her hand. Peter stepped forward, eyes glowing with Alpha power, and shook it.

Chris’s mouth was still agape when Peter turned back. Smiling slightly, Peter placed a finger on Chris’s chin. “You’ll catch flies like that.” Turning to Derek and Stiles, Peter flashed his eyes and both men fell in alongside them as they walked away.

“Holy shit that went way better than I thought it would.” Stiles was bubbling over with excitement. Chris smiled when he watched Derek wrap a protective arm around his excited mate.

“It did, but we can’t let our guard down yet.” Derek warned softly.

Chris had to agree. While Miriam seemed honest (and he knew both wolves would have smelled deception), he couldn’t allow himself to be any more than cautiously optimistic - not yet.

They all piled into Chris’s SUV - Stiles and Derek and the back, Peter sitting up front. “You want me to drop you all off at the loft?” Chris turned the key.

“I think we all deserve some food after that. I’ll order us pizza and ribs once we get back.” Peter turned to look at Chris, “You will, of course, be joining us.” It was said in a tone that brooked no argument- making it clear that this was what Peter wanted. And what Peter wanted, he generally got.

Chris stared straight ahead. He had planned to just drop them off and head back to his small one-bedroom place and drink, but. “I suppose it would be rude to down an Alpha’s invitation.” Chris dared to glance across at Peter, and the way Peters’s eyes sparkled it was if he found something amusing..

“Yes Christopher. it would.” There it was again, that slight tensing of Peter's jaw as if he was trying not to laugh, and made Chris feel a warmth he had not experienced before. He wanted to see that laughter, to make Peter smile. What the _fuck_ was going on with his head?

  
  
0o0  
  
  
  
  
  


Peter kept his promise, and pizza and ribs flowed in abundance. The rest of the pack had converged on the Hales’ loft once they had returned and at the sound of loud, happy, young adults bantering and teasing, Chris was momentarily hit by a fresh wave of grief. Allison would have been so happy to see this, maybe even proud of him. 

He positioned himself at the large dining table, leaving the sectional to the pack to sprawl on. The easy touching and casual caresses they gave one another caused another wave of sadness. Even when things had been at their best between him and Victoria, there hadn’t been this casual intimacy, but until this point, Chris had never really missed it. He had been warm and affectionate with Allison, but that was different. He had never sought out or wanted to be touched by another in a more intimate way, 

Victoria had called him cold, and in a sense it was true. Their relationship was more like a business transaction ensuring the next Argent Matriarch, and intimacy had always felt perfunctory and cold. Chris had never experienced that supposed dizzying rush that was meant to accompany sex, or even the spark of desire brought about by touching someone you cared for.

He often wondered if he was broken, wrong - if something in the long line of abuses Gerard had inflicted on him had stolen his ability to feel a desire for sex or intimacy on any level.

A hand settled on the nape of his neck. He was slowly becoming used to the wolves doing that, and it no longer sent his hunter reflexes into panic mode. He looked up to find Peter standing alongside him, frowning down at the uneaten slice of pizza on his plate. The fingers on the back of his neck softly petted his skin, and he found himself leaning into the touch, and wasn’t that bizarre?

“You’ve hardly touched your food, Christopher. You really should eat more.” Peter’s tone, while disapproving, was more paternal than cruel - no, that wasn’t quite it - but whatever it was, it made a small frisson of heat well in Chris’s belly, which was just fucking _confusing._

Chris didn’t know how to deal with that, so he lapsed back into old habits and snapped waspishly, “I’m not one of your pups, Peter. You don’t need to worry about me.” He instantly regretted the words as soon as they were out, biting his lip in shame.

Peters’s eyes narrowed and his grip firmed ever so slightly, tone firm. “No Christopher you're not, but you and I both know you haven’t been looking after yourself. Azgo on, appease my wolf. Let him see you eat that slice.”

Chris could say no, tell Peter to fuck off with that Alpha bullshit - only, for reasons he couldn’t even fathom, he didn’t really _want_ to. So he picked up the slice and took a large bite, chewing as loudly and obnoxiously as he could. He half expected Peter to scold him for acting so petulantly but when he risked a glance he saw the Alpha smiling his approval.

“ Brat. Eat nicely,and I’ll get out the good scotch for us to share after.”

Chris couldn’t help pouting. “48-year-old men are too old to be brats.” But he slowed his chewing down and started to enjoy the pizza. It really was nice, the perfect amount of toppings so the base wasn’t soggy. He even ate the second slice that miraculously appeared on his plate. Okay, fine- he was hungry. It had nothing to do with the approval in Peter’s eyes, or the warm feeling in his chest at the look.

“Good job, Christopher. Let me find those glasses, and we can have a drink.” Peter stepped away and Chris mourned the sudden loss of Peter’s hand on his neck. _Get a grip, Argent,_ he scolded himself.

Peter came back holding two cut crystal whisky glasses and a bottle of a decidedly expensive single malt. Pouring a dram for each of them, Peter sat across from Chris. “I think we earned this Argent, don't you?”

Chris shrugged and took a sip. Looking over his glass at Peter he could see the subtle changes in the man over the last few months. Still an incorrigible fashion horse, he’d let his hair get a little longer, scruffy at first glance, but Chris would bet his last tooth that Hale spent ages perfecting the look.The beard was new though, and Chris had to admit it gave Peter what the kids (or Erica at least) would probably call a ‘Hot Professor’ vibe. 

“I think so, it’s still too early to tell.” Chris looked over at Peter feeling like he needed to explain himself. “The hunters’ council could still fight her on this, but she has the older families backing her, so.” Chris shrugged.

Peter tipped his glass towards Chris. “This is why I need your insight, Chris. We have a chance to establish a strong and stable pack for the first time in nearly fifteen years. We have a chance to do good things, to help the supernatural community.” Peter's enthusiasm was infectious, and Chris found himself nodding in agreement

The rest of the evening was spent with Peter and Chris poring over old treaties and Chris explaining the hows and whys of the hunters’ council. It was so good to just sit and talk with someone who grasped the finer nuances. Pack politics seemed similar to the way the council operated. Not once did Peter make Chris feel like his opinions were worthless - instead, he seemed to weigh each comment Chris made, and encouraged him to speak his mind. The sassy,snarky banter that had always existed between them was still there, but this felt real, like he was seeing Peter for the first time - the real Peter Hale - and Chris found himself wanting more. 

Chris looked around and saw that at some point the rest of the pack had headed off to bed or home. Peter looked skyward and gave a groan. Chris could guess at the reason. “Stiles and Derek?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “They’ve been at it for _two hours_. I find it sadly disappointing no one has thought to invent earplugs to suit werewolf needs. Still, to be young and in the throes of passion.”

Chris chewed on his lip, hesitant. “But they are enjoying themselves, aren’t they?” Chris didn’t know why he blurted that out.

Peter looked startled, then his expression softened. “Yes Christopher, they are. It’s just unfortunate that I get to hear it,” Peter lowered his voice, “ _all damn night.”_

Chris blushed, not sure how to handle that information, but Peter seemed to take pity on him and changed the subject.“Why don’t I take you home? You look ready to drop.” 

Chris had to admit he was feeling beat, and was hopeful maybe tonight he would sleep the night through - a faint hope, these days. But he wondered why Peter would offer to drop him home, when he drove here.

It was as if Peter saw the question before Chris asked. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had several of those.” Peter eyed the empty glass. “I’ll drive your car to your place, then run back, I could do with the quiet time.” 

Chris hesitated for only a second - the request was reasonable. Handing over the keys his fingers grazed Peter's palms. A frisson of something pleasurable ran through Chris. “Thank you, Peter.”

Peter smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Christopher. Come on, let’s get you home.”

  
  
  
0o0  
  
  


Peter looked up at the nondescript, rundown apartment block. It wasn’t the sort of place he’d envisaged Chris living. It was in one of the most crime-ridden areas of the city, and he was tempted to take Chris back to the loft and offer him the spare room, but he knew that Chris had his pride.

He was starting to unravel the mystery of Chris Argent, slowly making a few discoveries about the man - some that maybe even Chris was unaware of. For one thing, while the rest of the pack made off-colour jokes about how ‘ _Daddy’_ Chris was, and what they would respectively like to do with or to him, Peter saw deeper, and thanks to his werewolf super sniffer, knew the man’s emotions like the back of his hand. Chris never, ever smelled of arousal, and the other physical cues one would expect never came. There were several occasions where Peter would have expected at least a hint of attraction, like the bounty hunter the week before last who had just about thrown herself at Chris. He’d politely but firmly refused her advances. Most of the pack assumed Chris was painfully straight, but Peter could see it wasn’t that clear-cut. 

Kate had been a predator, a creature who knew how to wield her sexuality with ease. If anything, Chris was the opposite. He seemed to be drawn to people on an emotional level, as if he needed more than just a physical connection. There was more there too, an almost boyish side to Chris that seldom showed, but when it did, Peter couldn’t help but fixate on it.

Peter pulled into a vacant parking spot and turned the engine off. Chris had drifted off to sleep on the short car trip, and Peter fought the urge to throw a jacket over him and let him sleep. That wouldn’t do Chris any good -he needed to get into a bed and get some decent sleep. Peter suspected that it had been in short order for Chris lately. He gently shook Chris’s shoulder, “Come on sleeping beauty, we’re here.”

Chris's eyes snapped open and Peter let him have a moment to gather his wits. “I really must be tired,” Chris mumbled as he got out of the truck.

Peter stepped over to the curb and waited for Chris, holding out the keys for him. Chris kept his eyes down as he reached for the keys, almost bashful in his demeanor. 

Peter gently took Chris's hand, just a soft linking of fingers.. The touch didn’t seem to offend Chris, but Peter didn't want to push things. “I want to ask a favour of you, Chris. You can say no of course, but it would help me out considerably.”

Chris looked up from under his lashes, and oh, those blue eyes were breathtaking. “I’ll help if I can.”

Peter looked down at their linked fingers and the keys hanging between them. Chris didn’t smell distressed by the contact, and Peter took it as a win. “You know we have vaults all over the country, right?” Chris nodded, not moving away but not looking directly at Peter either. “Well one of those vaults has all the family treaties and magic books. I think they could help us as we go forward, and I know Stiles would kill to get his hands on those books. Fuck knows, Deaton was no help to the boy.”

Chris tipped his head and gave Peter a narrow look. “Peter why are you doing this? I mean all of this - the food, the offers of help, the concern for my well-being - why?” Chris still held Peter’s hand, looking at where they were linked with confusion and something akin to wistfulness. It wasn’t a look or a scent Peter would ever have imagined on the stoic figure that was Chris Argent. Even more endearing was seeing Chris bite his bottom lip nervously after he spoke with an innocence that was charming.

“You and I have dealt with an unfair amount of bullshit these last few years, and I think it's time we gave ourselves a break.” It was as honest as Peter could be. “So if you want to join me on an adventure to find some dusty old treaties, I could really use the company.”

Chris nodded and then gave Peter a crooked grin. “Like I’m going to miss the chance of going through a Hale vault. I’m many things, but I’m not stupid.”

“No Swee- Christopher, never that. Stubborn to a fault? Yes. Terrible at looking after yourself? Definitely. But never stupid.” Chris seemed to miss the near slip of the tongue, and Peter was glad.

“Yeah well, we both made some pretty terrible life choices.” Chris’s grin was wider now and Peter took it for a win.

“That’s in the past. Time to move forward, or whatever those terrible motivational posters say. I'll pick you up at seven, the vault’s a couple of hours out of Beacon Hills, out in the boonies.” Peter let go of Chris's hand, and was absurdly pleased when Chris’s hand reached out as if he was missing the contact.

Peter was turning to leave when out of the blue, Chris leaned in and kissed him, just a soft brush of lips, feather light and then gone. Before Peter could say anything Chris was gone, the door slamming, and Peter could hear heavy footfalls as Chris bolted to his apartment.

As he ran back to the loft, all Peter could think about was that soft kiss, the brush of lips against his cheek. It was so unlike Chris. Peter had never seen this side of the man, and his hesitance was sweet, but he’d made the first move. Peter let out a loud laugh that echoed through the night air at the thought that he wasn’t reading this wrong. Chris Argent was attracted to him. Peter had no Idea what he was doing here, it was so far outside of his normal experiences it was laughable, but nothing had ever felt so right. 

Now he just had to not fuck it up.

  
  
  
0o0  
  
  
  
  
  


Stiles sat on the bed, the blankets pooled around his waist while he held the phone cradled to his ear, smiling to himself while Chris rambled on.

  
  


“I swear to god I felt something, Stiles. Maybe not the whole _the earth stood still, birds were singing_ moment, but it was something,” Chris was silent for a moment but Stiles waited patiently, looking over at Derek who just smirked. They both knew that this was coming - Peter had told them about his not-so-subtle courting of Chris, and had been thrilled that it was paying off.

“I mean, it was only just a peck on the cheek, but it was Peter, Stiles. _Peter_ . I didn’t even think I liked guys, but...there was _something._ ”

“Hey. One, it's awesome that you enjoyed it right?”

“Yeah, I did. I mean, I think I did. I’ve not got a lot of past history of enjoying kissing to go on here, Stiles,” Chris said dryly.

“Okay, so. You remember what we talked about, how sexuality isn’t some fixed construct for you, and how your need to have an emotional connection with someone is what’s most important for you? How the gender of whoever you feel that connection with is really secondary?” Stiles smiled when Derek got off the bed and padded downstairs, knowing hot chocolate was surely on its way.

“Yeah, I remember, and you’re right, but what if Peter doesn’t get it? Like, I don’t know if I'm ever going to want the sort of physical relationship he might want.” Chris was breathing rapidly and sounded like he was on the verge of a freaking out, but Stiles knew how to nip it in the bud.

“Chris? Just stop for a minute. Take five deep breaths with me, okay?” Stiles was happy to be there for Chris - gods knows the man had been there for him and Derek - hell, he’d turned his back on his family and colleagues to help the pack. Chris was one of the adults they could always rely on for advice, or in some cases a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets. So to be able to talk Chris through a late night phone call and help him navigate his complex sexuality was a no brainer. If anything, Stiles was touched that Chris trusted him enough to turn to him for advice.

Stiles counted aloud slowly, nodding a _thank you_ when Derek walked in with two mugs, marshmallows peeking over the rim of Stiles’s Captain America mug. God, he loved this man.

“Better, Chris?” Stiles smiled when he heard Chris’s deep chuckle. 

“Yeah, sorry kid. I kind of freaked out there.”

“You're allowed, dude. This is a big step for you.”

Chris made a rude sound down the phone. “I’ve kissed people before, Stiles. I mean, not many, true. Maybe four?” He sighed. “Jesus, that sounds so sad.”

“Yeah but you haven’t wanted it or felt much, right? And dude you kissed _Peter_. The man is daddy as fuck. I’d almost be envious, but I got my own wolf.”

Derek groaned, and Chris chuckled before saying, “Shit, it’s late. Sorry, I’ll let you get back to Derek.”

“Sure, but before you go? Whatever this thing you have with Peter is, I’d go with it.

I think it'll be good for you both. You and I both know Peter's moral compass can swing a little wild at times, but when it comes to family or those he thinks of as his? Well, I think you get it.” Stiles leaned back against Derek's chest as he spoke, and tipped his head so Derek could run his nose along his neck.

“You have a point, Stiles, I’ m...I'm going with him to one of the vaults tomorrow. He said he wanted to make a day out of it so I’d better get some sleep.”

“Night Chris. Call me with all the juicy details,” Stiles giggled, then laughed harder at the pained expression on Derek's face.

  
  
  
  
  
  
0o0  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chris’s leg jiggled and Peter watched out of the corner of his eye as he drove. The leg jiggling and finger tapping were things he expected from Stiles noy Chris. He didn’t want to push, but he knew if he didn’t address the tension between them Chris might actually explode.

Pulling off to the side of the road he turned to face Chris. “OK, what has you all worked up?”

“Nothing,” Chris huffed out a little too quickly. 

“Bullshit, Argent. Now spit it out.”

“I - Peter, I kissed you,” Chris whispered, then a little louder, “I _kissed you,_ and you haven’t said a _damn_ thing about it, and I don’t know why I did it, but ‘Im not sorry a- fuck, just start the engine, this is stupid. I’m a fucking _idiot_.”

“No, Chris. I’m not starting the engine until you open your damn mouth and finish that sentence,” Peter said firmly. “ Now look at me.”

Chris lifted his head, and Peter didn’t need werewolf senses to detect the confusion and desire that battled behind those sky blue eyes. “Can I take your hand? Please?” Peter asked, before reaching over the console.

Chris gave a sharp nod. Peter moved slowly, weaving the fingers of one hand loosely through Chris's, keeping his touch light but hoping it would help tether Chris.“You’re not an idiot Chris, and if anyone should be sorry it's me.”

“What? I mean, I kissed you...I basically forced myself on you.” 

Chris turned and stared fixedly out the window, but Peter slowly reached over and placed an index finger under his chin, guiding Chris to face him again. “No sweetheart, you didn’t. I enjoyed it, and I would love to do it again sometime, but I won’t force you into anything you don’t want or aren’t ready for.”

“I don’t need to be mollycoddled Peter, I'm a grown man,” Chris huffed, looking once more out the car window and away from Peter's gaze.

Peter fought the urge to pull Chris into his lap, knowing that would be too much. “I’m not mollycoddling, but you do deserve to be treated with respect and kindness.” 

Chris turned back and arched a brow at Peter “You know Hale, there was a time you wanted me skewered through with an iron bar.”

Peter let out a low laugh. “I’ll give you that. I probably thought you deserved it at the time. But I like to think we have both grown since then. I enjoy your company, and the fact you’ve never been afraid to call me out. You’re one of the few I find tolerable in this town, Chris, and one of even fewer I’d willingly spend time with.” 

“God, you're so full of shit,” Chris groaned, but he was smiling as he said it. Their hands were still linked and Peter hated breaking contact, but he did need both hands to drive. Chris looked more relaxed as Peter pulled the car back onto the highway.

“There’s a nice spot to enjoy lunch not far from the vault. Did you want to eat first or go straight there?”

Chris hummed thoughtfully. “Lets go to the vault, first then get some food after.”

Peter nodded, keeping his eyes on the road but unable to stop the smile from spreading on his face. Despite the shaky stat, he had a feeling this might end up being a good day.

  
  
  
0o0  
  
  
  


Chris stared at the sign hanging from the chain link fence and let out a loud laugh. “Hale Silver Mine? You’re shitting me, right?”

Peter grinned right back. “Uncle Bathazar had a nose for gelology, literally. He could sniff out a gold deposit halfway across the state, from the stories Great Grandma Hale told. He ran this mine with the human members of the family, and when the silver ran out they found nickel. The mine played out years before my parents were born, but enough money was made from this and the other mines to help secure the family fortune. Chris unlocked the gates and Peter pulled the car through and parked up by the old mine office.“I'm sorry to say it's about an hour's hike up there.” Peter pointed to the mountain side.

Chris grinned. Walking through the woods on a crisp autumn day sounded perfect to him. It was one of the things he loved, the chance to spy a deer or a bear always made him smile. Gerard had always accused him of being softhearted, but he never managed to diminish Chris’s joy at being outdoors or watching wildlife.

Chris got out of the car and looked around. Once this place would have been a hive of activity, the sounds of rock presses and heavy machinery filling the air, but now it was quiet, the sound of a lone eagle the only thing to break the tranquil peace.

“Thought you’d enjoy it up here,” Peter remarked as he pulled two small backpacks from the boot of the car.

“You’re right, it's peaceful. Much wildlife?” Chris extended a hand, taking one of the packs from Peter. He fought a little shiver when their fingers touched.

“A few bears, and a pack of timber wolves have set up territory here. Each time I come up to visit the pack seems to have increased. There are so many cubs.” Peter's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Chris liked the way Peter looked when he smiled. He liked the small creases that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he laughed, too. Jesus, why was he noticing that?

“Can they...um...” Chris didn’t want to be offensive, but he had often wondered how wolves reacted to their supernatural cousins.

Peter let out a deep laugh. “Oh, they know. The Alpha pair was going to have my throat the first time I stumbled across them, but they soon realised I wasn't a threat to them or their family.”

Slipping his pack on, Peter reached out a hand to Chris, who hesitated for only a moment before taking the extended hand.

The path was easy going at first, a meandering trail through a meadow soon leading into tall evergreens, the dappled light giving the surrounding woods a almost fairytale feel, and Peter held his hand the whole time, his warm, reassuring touch adding to the ethereal quality the day had taken.

They reached the final climb up to where the vault was hidden, and Peter had to drop Chris's hand. It surprised Chris how much he missed the firm grip on his hand, it was peculiar to be so moved by a simple touch, but then, everything in the last few days had been peculiar. He had been surprised at how his body reacted to Peter’s touches,craving more. It confused him, because he’d never really felt the stirrings of arousal, the desire for _more_ before. Add in the fact it was Peter who was evoking these feelings in him, _Peter Hale,_ and Chris was awhirl at the moment.

On the last section of the trail they scrambled over large fallen boulders and through thick foliage. Chris let out a sharp hiss when an errant branch swiped his face but continued on, following the path Peter made. Finally, close to the top they came to a small cut-in. There wasn't much space between the cliff wall and the small path and scrubby undergrowth covered it all. Chris watched, fascinated, as Peter strode towards the cliff wall and pushed his hand through the undergrowth. An almost inaudible click sounded and Peter's eyes flashed red in satisfaction. “I was almost worried I’d forgotten the spot. I didn’t fancy us having to backtrack up and down this damn mountain again.” He gave a solid shove and the wall swung back to show a dark tunnel. “The vault’s down this path, watch your step. No overhead lights, sorry.” Chris gave a shrug and followed Peter into the dark interior, trusting Peter to use his superior vision and warn him of any dangers. 

Huh. He trusted Peter. 

The tunnel gave way to a much more spacious cavern, or so Chris guessed by the change in the air - he could only just make out Peter’s light shirt in the oppressive dark, “Hold still for a minute, Argent. There's stuff laying around all over the place and the last thing I need is you twisting an ankle up here.” 

An image of Peter having to ride piggyback Chris down the mountain brought a stifled chuckle to his lips and Peter snorted not far away. “No chance, Chris. I know what you're thinking.”

“Darn. Just when I thought a piggyback from Beacon Hills’ most eligible bachelor would be the highlight to my day.”

Chris blinked rapidly a few times as the room was suddenly basked in a warm light. Old fashioned Tiffany lamps dotted the room, some tall, freestanding things, and some small dainty desk lamps. With the room now lit Chris could see the boxes and rolls of carpet that Peter had warned him about.

“Some of the older Hales were part packrat, I swear. They never could let anything go.” Peter moved an old chaise out of the way with ease,and Chris moved up behind him to look over Peter's shoulder. Peter rolled an old Persian rug back to reveal a safe. This one had spaces for claws instead of numbers. Peter looked over his shoulder to Chris and smirked, flashing his eyes and letting his claws extend. “Lets see what goodies I can find, shall we?”

The safe opened to reveal a trove of knowledge, in both volumes of magic lore and old treaties. Chris was soon caught up in each bit of new knowledge they unearthed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting in one of the old armchairs reading when Peter roused him with a soft touch to his shoulder. Chris looked up from the book he was reading to be greeted by Peter's warm smile. “I hate to pull you away, but it's getting late and we need to get down this mountain before it's too dark.”

“You're right. I guess I got caught up in this.” Chris held up the volume, a long treatise on ancient supernatural creatures of Mesopotamia.

“Keep hold of it, Christopher. Consider it a gift. I'm sure you’ll find it of more use and interest than most of the pack.” Peter reached out a hand and helped Chris to his fee., They filled their packs with as many books as they could carry, and put the rest back in the safe.

“I can bring you back again, if you’d like,” Peter said as they walked out of the vault.

Chris nodded. “Maybe next time we can bring some food.” His stomach growled loudly just then, causing Peter to chuckle.

  
  
  
  
  


Peter had chosen to walk in front again, his eyesight in the failing light better suited to keeping them on the track and less likely to fall off the edge of the cliff. While he kept his eyes focused on the path in front, he kept an ear on Chris behind him. He knew Chris was careful and no stranger to hiking, but Peter couldn’t help but indulge the protective streak that Chris brought out in him lately.

Curled up in that armchair, Chris had looked happy. Peter had found himself more often than not looking over to where he’d been reading. It was hard to resist - there was something stupidly endearing in the way Chris sucked in his bottom lip when he was concentrating.

“Motherfu..” Chris yelped loudly, followed by a series of loud profanities and a muffled thump. Somehow, he had stepped off the edge of the track and tumbled down the rest of the path.

Peter's heart leapt into his throat as he tore through the brush to find the fallen man. He would never forgive himself if Chris had been injured.

He found Chris in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the hill, sitting up right in the middle of a mess of greenery. In the failing light Peter could see scratches, some of them deep, and a nasty bruise was starting to form on Chris's forehead.

Chris let out a loud hiss as he sat forward and Peter moved fast, kneeling down alongside him. “Don’t move. Let me make sure you haven’t broken anything.”

Chris grunted, annoyed,and tried to stand, only to fall back, grimacing “Dammit, I think I sprained my ankle”

Peter stretched a hand out and laid it on Chris's arm. “ That's not the worst news, my friend.”

“Oh?” Chris’s brow creased in confusion. Peter found it adorable

“No. The worst news is you landed smack dab in a pile of poison oak.” 

Peter had gone from terrified that Chris had seriously hurt himself to trying desperately not to laugh, and it was made all the worse by the look of abject horror on Chris’s face. “Oh, kill me now please, Peter, just take me out...ahh, shit, it's up my shirt!” Chris locked eyes with Peter and Peter couldn't help the snort that escaped him. That set Chris off, and soon both men had collapsed in gales of laughter, Chris leaning against Peter and snorting.

It took them a minute to gather themselves, but finally Peter said, “I need to get you somewhere and look at that ankle, not to mention deal with the poison oak.” Peter could see the car parked not far from where Chris had landed, just across a field.

“I think I can walk if I can lean on you.” 

Chris tried to stand, but Peter put a hand on his shoulder. “No, it's too far. I'll carry you - it’ll be quicker and we really do need to wash the poison oak oil off you and get that ankle wrapped.”

Chris nodded stiffly - not through reluctance, Peter guessed, but through the pain of his ankle and various other bruises. Gently getting his arms under Chris’s thighs and back, he lifted him and started to walk towards the car. Chris relaxed against Peter and let out a soft sound, almost a sigh, a hand patting Peter’s chest. “My hero,” Chris snickered quietly, but then let out a gasp. “Okay, maybe some bruised ribs too.” 

By the time Peter had gotten to the car Chris had passed out, probably from a mix of pain and shock. Peter weighed up whether to take Chris to the emergency room, but it was a good two hours away. Peter was certain he could tend to most of Chris’s wounds if he could find them somewhere comfortable and clean to spend the night.

Thank the gods of the internet, google maps showed a fairly nice looking motel that offered clean rooms and even a restaurant next door. He also found an open pharmacy in the same town, and the drive would only be twenty minutes.

Settling Chris into the passenger seat, Peter gave into temptation and brushed a few errant strands back, and pressed a soft kiss to Chris’s forehead.

  
  
  
  


Chris blinked slowly - did he pass out? He turned his head and yep, that hurt. “Move slowly, here lean on me.” Peter's voice came through the fog that was currently his brain. Peter helped him move from the car to a warm room, the only lights coming from the lamp situated between the two queen beds .

Chris let Peter steer him towards one of the beds. God, he felt like crap. His ankle and ribs ached like he had gone a round with a prizefighter, and his skin itched like a motherfucker. He reached up to scratch his neck but Peter’s hand intercepted him. “No sweetheart, you’ll make it worse. Hold on a minute, I'm going to run you a bath and see if we can get some of the itch out.”

Chris lay back on the bed and watched Peter out of the corner of his eye as Peter disappeared out to the car then came back carrying both their backpacks over his shoulder as well as several large plastic bags. “I stopped by the pharmacy and the grocery store when we came into town. You were out to it.”

Peter pulled out a medical kit and a pack of antiseptic wipes, then several bottles of water, and sat them on the small table. Next he brought out a new pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved tee and a pack of socks. At Chris’s confused look Peter said, “We’re going to have to strip you out of those clothes and bag them up, they’re covered in poison oak oil. We should probably strip that bedspread off too, once I get you in the tub.” Chris nodded, confident that Peter knew what he was doing. Chris vaguely remembered hearing that about poison oak, that if the oil was on your clothes it could start the whole mess again. Just thinking about it made Chris's skin itch worse, but each time he went to scratch Peter's hand was there to gently stop him.

Peter helped Chris stand and walk to the bathroom, looking uncharacteristically worried. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I need to help you get these things off. I don't want to risk you keeling over and adding a concussion to everything else.”

It was strange, but Chris wasn’t uncomfortable or embarrassed even as he stripped down, Peter's obvious concern and gentle tone helping set him at ease. 

Peter held his arm as he slipped into the lukewarm water, the epsom salts easing the itch on his skin. He let out a groan. “Sit forward Chris, I’ll wash your back and clean these grazes up.” Peter dipped a washcloth into the water then started carefully washing Chris’s back. Peter’s other hand rested on Chris's arm and black lines ran up Peter's arm. 

“You’re drawing my pain.” Chris didn’t know why, but the simple act had him close to tears. Maybe it was because despite their history, Peter still had it in his heart to do this for him.

“Ssh. It’s ok, sweetheart,” Peter soothed as he washed Chris. The touches were efficient but not clinical, and they affected Chris deeply. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like this, with kindness, without wanting something in return. That was, until Peter.

“You're good at this,” Chris murmured, fighting a moan as Peter started to wash his hair. Peter's fingers were rubbing soothing circles against his scalp, and it was a whole new level of decadence.

“Good at what, Christopher?” Peter smirked as he made Chris hair into a shampoo mohawk, snickering at Chris’s snort when he showed him in the shaving mirror.

“You're good at looking after people, at caring,” Chris said softly.

Peter rinsed Chris’s hair, then fetched two bottles of water, handing one to Chris then sitting on the side of the tub, one hand still on Chris, drawing his pain. “I wasn’t always, you know.”

“Wasn't what?“ Chris asked, after he sipped his water.

“Good at looking after people. Before the fire, before all of this? I was Talia's left hand. My job was to do the stuff no respectable Alpha would. I wanted to care for someone though. I saw what Talia had with Joe, and I wanted that someday, but with what the job did to me, what being her left hand made me into, I figured I would never get the chance.”.

Chris looked up at Peter and tried to imagine what he must have been like. He knew something of what it was like, to have your choices dictated by family and duty. “You're a good man, Peter. You’re a man who’s had to deal with more shit than any one person should have to, but you’ve come out of it all with a pack that not only respects you but cares for you. You’re doing great things with that pack. You’ve given them a safe haven and purpose.” Chris looked down at the bubbles still floating on the water, not looking up as he spoke. “You’ve given me hope and purpose too, Peter.”

Chris was glad Peter couldn't see his blush. He didn't mean to blurt that all out. He could blame it on feeling fuzzy from the pain drain, but he wouldn’t. Chris was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a coward. He let Peter help him out of the bath and tried valiantly not to blush when Peter started to dry him off, the warm hands softly running the towel over him were sending odd little flutters through him.

With one towel wrapped around his waist and another thrown over his shoulders, Chris felt warm in the soft embrace of the towels. Peter helped lead him over to one of the beds. His skin wasn’t itching too badly, the bath helping, but he was sure it was more to do with the warm hand settled on his bare side drawing away his discomfort. He shot Peter a thankful smile and was rewarded by one in return. Settled comfortably at the foot of the bed, Peter grabbed the bag of medical supplies and started to work with a gentle efficiency that Chris could tell was more about not causing any further harm.

Ankle bandaged and cuts cleaned, Peter started in with the calamine lotion. Chris managed to stifle a laugh when Peter dabbed his nose and cheeks with the cotton ball. Peter's touches were sure and gentle, and Chris leaned into them without any anxiety or fear that Peter expected something more from the touches. He blushed a little when Peter dabbed calamine on his ass cheeks, but he’d managed to get poison oak there, and the lotion did bring relief. Peter kept the touches light and non-sexual, but it still caused Chris to shiver in a pleasant way.

With Peter's help he slipped on the sweat pants and socks but forewent the cotton tee, his skin too sensitive from the poison oak. Chris slipped under the covers of the bed and sighed. The cool sheets felt good on his abused skin, and the pillow felt like heaven. He watched with heavy eyes as Peter bagged up Chris’s soiled clothes and removed the other bedspread. A bottle of water and a small pack of antihistamine tablets appeared in his line of sight.

Chris took a drink and swallowed the pill, earning another pleased look from Peter, then he settled back down, watching as Peter turned all the lamps off bar one. When Peter settled on the other bed Chris couldn't help but let out a soft sound of disappointment. Maybe that was werewolves’ real superpower - their touch was addictive. He’d certainly become addicted to Peter's hands quickly enough. He looked at Peter, really looked at him - not through the eyes of a hunter, but through the eyes of a man. Would it be forward to invite Peter to sit next to him? Did he need to make some excuse that his ankle hurt and he needed Peter to drain his pain? _No_ , he decided. That would do Peter a disservice, and Chris was done lying to himself.

Chris propped himself up on one elbow. “Peter ? Come lay next to me.”

A range of emotions flashed across Peter's face - fear, concern, _hope_. “Are you in pain, sweetheart?”

Chris almost changed his mind, but he reminded himself that he was going to be honest about this. “No ..I..look, I'm pretty sure I’ll sleep better with you next to me. Shit, that sounds creepy.” Chris rolled over onto his back and let out a groan, his sore ribs not appreciating the sudden movement. He flung an arm over his eyes, trying to hide his discomfort.

He felt a weight next to him on the bed and felt Peter’s breath warm on his cheek. “It's not creepy. I’ll sleep better too. Now roll over onto your good side.”

Chris rolled over obediently, and Peter laid his hand on Chris's hip,”You don’t have to draw my pain, Peter.”

Peter's voice was soft in his ear. “I know, but it soothes the wolf. Indulge me.”

Chris let himself relax against Peter's chest. “Today was a good day. Well, apart from falling off a cliff. Those books and papers are going to help.”

“I had a good time too, and I promise not to tell the pack how cute you look with calamine on your butt.” 

Chris would have turned and glared at him, but he was too comfortable in Peter’s arms right now. Plus, nobody had told him his butt was cute in a long time, with or without calamine. “You think next time we could just go out to dinner at a nice restaurant, like normal people?”

Peter's breath tickled the hair on the back of Chris’s neck when he huffed out a laugh. “And here I was, thinking a nice stroll through the woods and searching through an old family vault was the perfect date for us.”

Chris didn’t try to hide the sleepy grin that formed. “It was, Peter. It was.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
